


evergreen

by peachykeenjellybean



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adult Hermione Granger, Bathing/Washing, Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Good Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Jane Eyre - Freeform, Modern Era, Mutual Pining, POV Hermione Granger, Post-War, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Smut, Tutoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:02:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28825653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachykeenjellybean/pseuds/peachykeenjellybean
Summary: Hermione is asked to tutor Teddy Lupin in his year before he goes to Hogwarts at the Manor. A Jane Eyre Dramione AU.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 10
Kudos: 233
Collections: Dramione Favorites





	evergreen

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first time writing dramione so please be nice AH
> 
> lol i also didn't edit this sorry

The manor is still bitterly cold on Hermione’s skin no matter how many blankets she wraps around herself. The moonlight pierces through the window and past the drawn curtain, leaving a strip of silver on the dark floor. She didn’t bother drawing the curtains before she got into bed. Instead she cast a charm so that no one could see in—not like there would be anyone on the grounds for miles to see in— thinking the moon, and the sun in the mornings, would be a welcome guest in her bedroom. She enjoys the sunlight waking her up in the morning, the warmth of it hitting her face and warming her cheeks. But now, the open window is just a reminder of the outside. An outside where she can really only go so far before she has to run back to the sanctity of the manor. 

She could run away if she really wanted to. She could start running right now—in the middle of the night—but she wouldn’t get very far. It’s just fields and fields of nothing but moors. That was probably done on purpose. 

She’s given the illusion of freedom. 

But she isn’t _really_ stuck here. Or trapped. She did come here on her own free will...

She could run forever. Maybe fly. Over the meadow and off to the sea. But does she really want to? 

It starts to rain outside. The drops hit the glass of her window and she pulls the dozens of blankets she’s cuddling up to her chest and mutters a soft warming charm to hopefully scare the chill out of her body. 

The canopy above her bed looks black in the dark. Black as the night sky. But it’s actually a deep navy with embroidered gold thread. In the mornings, the gold thread glistens with the waking sun. It’s very celestial. The constellations are woven into the deep fabric. They twinkle slightly in the moonlight. Someone took much care in weaving it. 

Her eyes focus on one constellation in the middle of the canopy. A particular constellation in the far northern sky. Discovered by Ptolemy in the 2nd century. It can be seen from all northern latitudes. 

_Draco._

She catches her breath in her throat. 

She remembers the day they learned to identify it in astronomy. All the girls giggled as Professor Sinistra said it out loud. Hermione rolled her eyes and turned to look at Draco. His face was smug and a little uncomfortable, almost like he didn’t want the attention and all the sudden wide eyes looking at him. _Oh, bugger off,_ she’d heard him bark to the people who wouldn’t leave him alone. She narrowed her eyes and turned when he found her gaze and his eyes locked on hers. His face drops into a serious expression but his mouth parted slightly, as if he was going to speak. But Hermione turned around before he could say anything to her. Probably an insult. She could feel his eyes burn into the back of her head; still staring at her. 

She blinks and the constellation above her head twinkles against the deep, deep blue background. For a moment, it feels as if she’s laying on the grounds outside underneath the summer stars. 

But then she feels the cold.

Her fingers curl into the blankets. She tries to shut her eyes and fall asleep but every time she tries, there’s a pair of dove grey eyes staring back at her. She shivers. 

**✷**

When she wakes, she forgets where she is. But only just for a moment. She rubs her eyes with the heels of her hands and lets them adjust to the room. It’s not the first time she’s woken up here. And it certainly won’t be the last. 

She’s been here for about a month already. She’s lost track of the days. 

The Manor. Malfoy Manor. Well, it’s not really Malfoy Manor anymore. Not _that_ manor. The place where she was tortured and bled all over the floor of the drawing room. This is a different manor that the Malfoy’s, and Andromeda and Teddy, live in. It’s slightly smaller than the original manor. Hermione scoffs. The manor was actually confiscated by the Ministry after the war ended with it being a whole crime scene and all. The Malfoy’s were forced out and now reside at a country estate just south of where they originally were. 

She was asked to come here by Narcissa Malfoy specifically. Narcissa sent Hermione a letter addressed: _To The Brightest Witch of Her Age,_ and requested her presence here as a tutor. A tutor for Teddy Lupin. 

After the war, Andromeda reconciled with her sister and moved into the Manor so that Narcissa would help her raise Teddy. And they requested Hermione to be his tutor before he goes off to Hogwarts. 

It’s been years since Voldemort was defeated. Almost eleven to be exact. Teddy is set to go off to Hogwarts next fall but for now, Hermione teaches him basic spells—making sure that _he_ is the brightest wizard of his age. She smiles a bittersweet smile at the thought. He should be the brightest wizard of his age considering who his parents were. 

Hermione rises from her bed to look out the window at the gardens. The sky is so grey this morning. Clouds cover the sun and it’s just a bright expanse of nothing beyond. Grey and green mend together on the horizon line. She sighs.

**✷**

Harry is the one who told her to come. After weeks of avoiding owls from Narcissa and then from Andromeda, Harry tumbled out of her fireplace with a pleading look. Part of her thought it had been a cruel joke by Narcissa. A cruel joke to throw the muggleborn into a house with purebloods to act as a governess and watch her drown. But when Harry asked her, she couldn’t say no. 

Being Teddy’s godfather, Harry has a certain familial love for Teddy. So as he asked so sweetly, saying that Hermione really was the only witch bright enough to teach Teddy before he’s off to Hogwarts, the only witch bright enough to prepare him for Hogwarts, she kissed him on the cheek, nodded, and sent an owl to Narcissa and Andromeda as soon as he left with her conditions. 

Her conditions are as follows: 

She will be treated with the utmost respect that any other guest in the house would be treated with. 

She will be given her own room, preferably in her own wing. 

She will not be talked over or dismissed when instructing Teddy. 

She will teach him muggle studies. True muggle studies. 

Any discussion of blood status will not be tolerated. 

Narcissa sent a reply almost immediately accepting all the terms and Hermione found herself stepping out of the fireplace at the manor later that night. Narcissa and Andromeda were there to greet her when she dusted the soot off of her clothes. Andromeda pulled her into a tight hug, petting her hair and rubbing her shoulder, with a soft muttered, “Thank you.” Narcissa smiled at Hermione but didn’t approach and Hermione was grateful. She nodded her head and blinked her eyes slowly to acknowledge her presence. 

“Your wing is just down here, if you’d like to freshen up before dinner.” Narcissa spoke. 

“Please,” Hermione said and started to follow after Narcissa. Andromeda kept in pace with her while Narcissa walked ahead. She put her hand on Hermione’s shoulder. 

“Really, we can’t thank you enough for coming here to teach Teddy.” Her voice is so soft and her eyes are fixed in front of her, watching where she’s walking. Chin up. 

“I couldn’t say no to Harry,” Hermione replied, “he’s my best friend. I’d do anything for him.”

Andromeda gave her a small smile with no teeth and then they stopped in front of a set of double doors at the end of the hallway. “This is your suite,” Narcissa opened the doors to reveal the room completely decorated in creams and blues and golden stars. A celestial map almost. Hermione’s mouth opened. This is what she almost imagined the Ravenclaw common room to look like when Luna described it to her. 

The first thing Hermione did when Narcissa and Andromeda left her to get to know her room was take a bath. The bath was big enough for her to swim in with golden claw feet and a window beside it to overlook the gardens. She sank into the bubbles and closed her eyes. Under the water, it’s quiet. More quiet than the halls of the Manor but not as eerie. Under the water, she can hear her own thoughts. 

As Hermione steps out of the bath, she hears a crack on the other side of the bathroom door and then a little voice. “Dinner will be ready shortly, Miss,” the voice spoke and Hermione peered out around the door. A house elf stood on the other side. “Would Miss like to eat dinner in her room or in the dining room?” 

Hermione thought about it for a moment. As much as she would like to stay in her room and avoid everyone in this house as much as possible—only seeing them when she really needs to—it would probably be seen as quite rude if she doesn’t eat with them. She huffs. 

“I’ll eat in the dining room.” And then before she forgets, “What’s your name?”

“Fipley, Miss. Does Miss need anything else?” 

“No, thank you—” and before Hermione could even say the elf’s name again, she had apparated away with a crack. 

**✷**

She’s not sure how to dress for dinner at the Manor. It’s a Wednesday night. Surely, dinner can’t be _too_ formal. She settles on a burgundy long sleeve dress that covers the scars on her arm that their sister tortured onto her. 

She barely thinks about it anymore. But she doesn’t want it to become a topic of conversation. Or pity. So she covers it. 

Her hands smooth out her sleeves and the skirt of her dress as she walks down the hall to the dining room. The heels of her boots clack on the black tile floor. 

She’s the first one to arrive at the table. It’s set for five people. She’s seated at one of the sides by herself. Her fingers play with the utensils on the table as she waits. Fingerprints mark the perfectly polished silver. She can see her reflection in it. Her hair never really listens to drying charms and so it sticks out in every place—unruly curls rolling down her back. 

“I apologize that we’re so late,” Narcissa’s voice breaks the silence in the room, and breaks Hermione out of her thead, as the knife she was inspecting clatters to the ground. 

“Oh!” Hermione bends down to pick it up, “Sorry, I— you just startled me.” She places it back on the table. “I only just arrived myself.” 

“Please sit,” Andromeda says and gestures for her to sit down. Narcissa sits at one of the heads of the table and Andromeda to her side. Next to Andromeda is Teddy. Hermione smiles at him. She hasn’t seen him in so long. “Teddy, do you remember Hermione? Harry’s best friend?”

“It’s nice to see you again, Hermione.” His voice is soft but assertive. The way he talks reminds Hermione of Remus and the way he would command a class. He’s so polite. 

“Hermione will be teaching you, Teddy. She’s the brightest witch of her age and _she’s_ going to get you ready to go to Hogwarts.” Andromeda grabbed her spoon and stuck it in her soup. Teddy’s face lit up and his hair turned a bright green. 

Hermione looks down at her own soup in front of her. It’s a deep orange. She moves her spoon through it and scoops some up once she notices Andromeda and Naricssa have taken bites. Buttery pumpkin warm slides down her throat. She closes her eyes and savors. It’s fantastic. 

“This soup is delicious, Mrs. Malfoy,” Hermione says after she swallows when she looks up to see that everyone at the table is looking at her. 

“It’s Flipey’s specialty, you should tell her how much you enjoy it. She'd like that very much. And please, call me Narcissa, darling.” 

“Narcissa,” Hermione says softly, trying it out. Narcissa nods. 

“Where’s Draco?” Teddy asks in between slurps. 

“I’m not sure, my love. Looks like he’s late again.” Narcissa answers and looks at the empty table setting at the other end of the table. Hermione looks at it too. She wasn’t sure who the fifth person at dinner would be but for some reason she wasn’t thinking about Draco. 

But he’s late to dinner _again?_ Is this a common thing for him? To miss family dinner? Maybe he takes it in his room like Hermione wanted to. It’s certainly not as rude for him to refuse family. There was the sound of slight disappointment in Narcissa’s voice, though, when she said that it looks like he’s late again. Maybe he’s not even in the Manor. 

**✷**

They finish their dinner in almost silence. Little bits of conversation here and there. Narcissa and Andromeda would ask Hermione about how her life has been after the war. How her career has been. What lesson she’d start with with Teddy. 

Narcissa even asked, “Your boyfriend, or girlfriend, I don’t judge, doesn’t mind that you’ve come to live here to teach Teddy?”

Hermione choked on the bites of food that she had just shoved into her mouth. When she recovers she shakes her head. “No, Narcissa, no boyfriend to mind.” 

Like it’s any of her business if Hermione is dating or who she’s dating. 

The truth is, she hasn’t dated in a long time. A really long time. Since Ron and her had called it quits years ago. The split was amicable. They had both decided that they would be better off as friends. That’s what their relationship had felt like anyway. More like a friendship. They weren’t even having sex anymore towards the end. It wasn’t even a friendship with the benefits. 

Hermione sighed and sagged into her bed. After dinner she changed into her pajamas and now she lays on the bed, looking up at the canopy above her head.

It really is quite beautiful the way the embroidered stars blink down at her. Her hands are over her head and her hair is spread around her on the pillows. She’s feeling too lazy to get up and pull down the covers. She falls asleep just like that. 

She’s woken up hours later by a loud slam at the end of the hall. For a minute after she wakes up, she’s disoriented and thinks that it’s part of her dream. Then she hears a slam again. She grabs her wand and goes towards the door. When she opens it, her eyes adjust to the dark hallway and at the end of it, a figure limps towards a door. She hears him swear under his breath. Actually, pretty loudly. Like he doesn’t think he will wake anyone up. He forgot to cast a silencing charm. He staggers and leans on the doorway before opening the door near Hermione’s. 

Then she sees his pale and icy hair in the light of the moon from the window in the hallway. Her breath catches but she doesn’t let it make a sound. She stands in her doorway in the darkness watching Draco Malfoy try to drunkenly open his bedroom door. When he finally opens it, he stomps in and slams it behind him. Hermione slams her own door and throws herself onto her bed. 

She’ll talk to Narcissa tomorrow. _She asked for her own wing. Well, she did say_ preferably. 

**✷**

Draco isn’t at breakfast the next morning, but Teddy doesn’t ask this time. Instead, they all eat in peace. The dining room is full of the sound of metal knives and forks against china. 

Andromeda breaks the silence. “Are you excited to start working with Hermione this morning, darling?” 

Teddy nods with a mouthful of eggs. His hair turns bright blue. He goes to open his mouth to speak but Narcissa gives him a look from across the table and he chews and chews and swallows so fast before talking. 

“What will we start with today?” He asks and then looks at Narcissa who dips her chin at him in approval before bringing her fork to her mouth. 

“I think we should start with some basic charms today, Teddy.” Hermione’s voice is low. Almost a question. Looking at Andromeda and Narcissa for approval. “You know, like _Reparo, Accio, Wingar—”_ Hermione stops. The door to the dining room opens and Draco stumbles in with his head hung low and his hand rubbing the back of his neck. 

He sits down at the other head of the table, opposite of Narcissa, and grabs the plate of sausages nearest to him. He picks it up with his fingers and licks each finger with a pop before turning to something else. 

His skin is even paler than Hermione remembers ten years ago. His hair is disheveled and falling around his eyes; longer than she remembers, too. Faded purple dark circles underline his eyes. The sleeves of his black sweater are pushed up on his forearms. She can see his dark mark there on his left arm. It’s faded with time and the death of the Dark Lord but it still remains there on his skin. Like he doesn’t even notice it anymore. 

Hermione thinks about her scar and she moves her right hand to hold her left forearm. Draco instinctively moves at the same time she does and pulls his sleeves down so that she can’t see it anymore. 

She turns and grabs her cup of coffee. Creamy with a few spoonfuls of sugar. She wraps her hands around it. The food on her plate has barely been eaten, she’s never really that hungry in the morning, but suddenly she doesn’t have an appetite anymore. 

Draco pours himself a cup of tea. The noise at the table has halted. Almost as if everyone’s scared of him. Narcissa doesn’t speak but when Hermione turns to look at her, it seems as if she wants to. She’s waiting for Draco to say something. 

Teddy is the one to speak first. 

“Hermione is teaching me basic charms today, Draco,” Teddy’s voice is so quietly enthusiastic. Hermione can’t help but smile down into her mug as she takes another sip. 

Draco looks up. He’s leaning on one of the arms of the chair. He makes the chair look so small underneath him. Hermione doesn’t remember him being that tall. 

“Is that so, Teddy?” Draco asks. But he doesn’t really ask. He turns to look at Hermione at the last syllable. His long fingers are tucked and curled around the thin handle. The veins in his hands glow a dull purple. 

“She’s going to teach me, _Accio_ and _Reparo_ and _Winga—_ what was that last one, Hermione? The one you started to say before Draco walked in?” 

“ _Wingardium Leviosa.”_

“Yes! That one! I think I’ve heard gran say that one before.” 

“Just remember, Teddy,” Draco says, “It’s _leviOHsa_ not _levioSA.”_

Hermione chokes on her coffee and Draco clears his throat. No one speaks for the rest of breakfast. 

**✷**

Teddy has so much talent and magic running through him that he beams as Hermione praises him and his hair turns a bright purple. It reminds Hermione of Tonks’ hair. 

They conclude their lesson in one of the study’s off of the gardens. She went through all the basic spells with him and their corresponding wand motion. He picked them up so quickly. 

By the time the clock strikes noon, Andromeda is knocking at the door and peering around it with a bright smile on her face with her eyebrows up inquisitively. 

“How was your first lesson, darling?” She opens the door and walks in, placing her hands on Teddy’s shoulders. Teddy turns and looks up at her and doesn’t stop telling her all about the charms he’s learned as they walk to the dining room for lunch. 

The rest of the afternoon flys by. Hermione starts Teddy on his muggle studies and he has so many questions for her. 

_But how does an airplane work?_

_How do boats float?_  
  


_How do microwaves heat up your food?_

_But why don’t muggle pictures move?_

At dinner that evening, Teddy’s could barely eat his food. All he wanted to do was ask more about the muggle world. 

“Tomorrow, Teddy, we can talk more. I promise,” 

Draco walked into the dining room late again. He plopped himself down in his chair at the end and began to scoop peas into his plate and meat and potatoes. Not paying much attention to the everyone else at the table. 

He cut a piece of meat and chewed and swallowed and looked up. “How was your first day of lessons, Teddy?”

“Did you know, Draco, that muggles use these things called airplanes to go to different places, especially across oceans? They can’t apparate or use portkeys!” 

“That’s fascinating.” 

“And their pictures don’t move. They’re just pictures.”

“That must be boring.” 

“That’s what I said! But Hermione insisted that they’re full of a different kind of magic. Sentimenial or something like that.” Teddy shrugged and took a bite of his food. 

Draco laughed softly and it startled Hermione a bit. She’d never seen him smile like that. Only snicker. It felt light. He felt light. Like all the dark and brooding surrounding him had lifted off of his shoulders for just a moment. 

“I think you mean sentimental.” 

“Yes, that’s what Hermione said. What kind of magic is that? Do we have it? Is it a charm?” 

“It just means,” Hermione cut in, “when you have feelings of tenderness or sadness towards something. Like when you look back at photographs and you can remember a moment whether it’s happy or sad.” 

“And that’s magic?” Teddy asked. 

“It’s a type of magic we can’t see, only feel.” Draco answered. 

Hermione lay in bed that night and stared at the canopy above her bed. The stars and constellations glimmered. She crossed her arms over her chest and her thumb brushed over the harsh but soft ridges of her scar on her arm. She closes her eyes and bites her lip. 

Then she hears footsteps down the hall. The same sound she’d heard the night before. She gets out of bed, her night dress falling around her thighs, and she walks towards the door. First, she just stands there and listens. 

She hears Draco mumble to himself. She can’t really make out what. 

_“_ ... _Astoria…”_

_“...why…”_

_“...pathetic, pathetic…”_

_“...those lips...that hair…”_

Astoria? Astoria Greengrass? She was a few years behind Draco and Hermione in school. Hermione doesn’t remember hearing about Draco dating anyone. But then again, pureblood mating practices are so old that they probably have a whole ritual. She rarely reads the Daily Prophet anymore. It’s nothing but nonsense. If there’s anything of importance Harry or Ginny will tell her about it. 

When she hears his door open and slam shut, she walks back to her bed and climbs in, pulling her covers almost above her head. She’s so cold in here. Her feet feel like ice. 

**✷**

Her first month tutoring Teddy goes so smoothly that she barely even notices that a month has actually passed. 

The days meld together. They’re all the same. She starts each morning with breakfast in the dining room. Teddy is so sleepy, nearly falling into his porridge. Draco stumbles in late with the heels of his hands rubbing into his eyes. He mumbles for a hangover potion from Fipley and she brings it to him. He knocks it back with a sip of hot tea and a bite of toast. In the afternoons, they have lunch together. Draco is never there. She doesn’t know where he is or where he goes but she doesn’t ask. She knows better than that. Teddy doesn’t ask either. At dinner, Draco rushes in late again—just like at breakfast. Usually at dinner he’s more inclined for conversation. Or rather, he cuts in randomly, asking Teddy questions, making a comment at Hermione. Never a rude comment, though. Usually a little quip. Something to make her laugh. An inside joke from when they were at school. 

_“Just don’t make anyone puke up slugs, Teddy, or, turn them into a ferret.”_

_“Try not to get stuck with a group of Gryffindors for detention in the Forbidden Forest—it won’t go well.”_

_“Don’t form your own army when you’re there. Well, unless there’s a need. Your godfather can tell you all about that.”_

_“Maybe Potter can teach you how to be a Seeker in your first year like he was. I did only ever get to beat him once…”_

One afternoon, after she’s dismissed Teddy for the day, Draco comes waltzing into the study. 

Hermione looks up from the books at her table. “Malfoy?” 

“Granger,” he looks down as he speaks. 

“What can I help you with?” 

“I just wanted to check in, see how Teddy’s studies are going?” 

Hermione was a little surprised. She didn’t think Draco was that invested in his cousin’s education. He seems sincere. His hand moves over her desk, picking up papers, looking at books she has scattered around. She pulls the one he’s holding out of his hand. It wasn’t anything important, she just didn’t want him touching anything without her permission. Who does he think he is?

His voice is so different here and at the dinner table than it is at night when she listens to him come home in the middle of the night and struggle to open his bedroom door. She subconsciously waits for him at this point. He’s like her cup of tea before bed. Hearing him mumble lulls her to sleep. She isn’t sure, however, if part of her likes to know that he’s home and he’s safe. Which is a completely absurd thought. Why should she care if Draco is home safe? She did speak at his trial after the war. She has always felt some sort of pity for him. Pity for the fact that he was forced into joining the Dark Lord and was branded at only sixteen. It wasn’t by choice. She’s always known that. Especially the moment he threw his wand to Harry at the final battle. That really solidified how she’s felt. 

She’s always had a bit of a crush on him, if she’s being honest with herself. On the train the first year, that’s when it started. Only eleven years old. She met him as she walked through the corridor. They exchanged a look and nodded their heads in a greeting. It was nothing more than that. She thought of him as so striking. Steel gray eyes and pale skin with icy blonde hair. No muggle looked like him. 

But then he became the bully. And called her that awful name. She hated to admit how much that name makes her skin crawl. But after she cried in Hagrid’s shack second year, she was determined to not let it affect her again. She wouldn’t let them win. 

Her forearm burns as she thinks about it. She bites her lip and rubs it over her sweater nonchalantly. She looks up at Draco. 

“They’re going really well, he’s very bright.”

“That, coming from the brightest witch of her age? It means a lot then.” He moves his fingers over her desk, touching everything. He stops on a book and picks it up. 

“He did have very powerful parents,” she says and it makes Draco stop as he’s opening the book. 

“I didn’t really know my cousin, but Professor Lupin, I will say, was the best Defense Against the Dark Arts professors we had,” he closes the book and puts it down. “We did have terrible luck with keeping them.” His eyes narrow with a little smirk and she laughs. “Has my mother shown you the library yet, Granger?” 

“The library?” 

“We transferred the library from the Manor to this one. Well, most of it. The Ministry did confiscate a few things.” He shrugs. “Are you done for the day?” 

She nods. 

“Follow me.” 

He waits for her at the door and they walk side by side down the hall. 

The top of her head hits his shoulder. When did Malfoy get so tall? Had he always been that tall? His arms don’t really sway when he walks, almost like he’s keeping them still, close to his body. They don’t talk as they walk. Their footsteps and heels echo down the corridor. 

He leads her down a set of stairs and into another hallway until it all looks familiar and she’s in her wing of the manor. Well, her and Draco’s wing. Does he know her room is right next to his? 

He stops in front of a door at the beginning of the hallway she’s been too curious to explore but hasn't gotten the chance yet. Draco looks at her before he opens the door. He looks at her with his hand paused on the handle. His grey eyes wide and almost pleading, in a way. She’s too close to him. She doesn’t know when she’d gotten so close. A piece of wayward hair falls in the middle of his face and hits the bridge of his nose. It brings them out of their staring. They both blink and he pushes the piece away before clearing his throat and opening the door. 

Hermione walks into the library first. She walks in only a few steps and stops right in front of the doorway with Draco behind her. The door shuts. 

The library is massive. And nicer than the one at Hogwarts. There are more rows of books. The stacks reach the vaulted ceiling and there’s a whole second floor accessible by a spiral staircase in the corner. There’s a fireplace at the back of the room complete with a dark green chaise. 

“This is…” she doesn’t really know what to say next. She forgets she’s speaking. Draco stays behind her. She forgets about him too. She remembers he’s there when she can feel his breath just ghosting over the shell of her ear and over the curve of her neck. 

“Go explore, Granger.” 

She feels chills down her back and then his hands are on her shoulders pushing her forward into the room. Her feet stumble just a bit but she finds herself and walks through the stacks on the first floor, running her fingers over the spines of the books at her eye level. 

“This is...wow, Malfoy.” She breathes. He’s following her through the stacks, watching her reactions to all of it. He stays a few paces behind, giving her her space. She stops. Her fingers pause on the books. She turns to look at him. “But why are you showing me all of this?”

He takes a moment to answer, looking around at everything else before her. “Because you love books.” 

“But why? You hate me.” 

“I never hated you, Hermione.” 

She laughs. She actually laughs at that. Then she stops. Did he just—?

“What did you just call me?” 

Draco steps closer to her. His hand brushes against the shelf as he does. She’s frozen in place. Like someone’s struck her with an _Immobulus_ charm. 

“Hermione,” he starts. He’s close enough that she could reach out and grab the front of his perfect white shirt, pulling him closer. But she won’t. Not yet. The way her name sounds, dripping off of his tongue, it’s like the honey she watches him pour into his tea every morning. 

His grey eyes sparkle under the dim lights of the library. She smiles but just barely. The color of cascading moonlight in her bedroom. 

“Dra—”

Her voice is broken by the sound of a crack behind them. 

“Fipley would like to let Master and Misses know that dinner is ready.” And Fipley is gone with another crack. 

Hermione flinches. They kept their eyes on each other. But after Fipley leaves, Draco closes his eyes, lets out a nearly inaudible little groan from the back of his throat, takes a deep breath, and leads Hermione out of the library with his hand on the small of her back. 

She doesn’t really breathe properly until she’s sitting down at her usual chair in the dining room. 

**✷**

The next evening at dinner, Narcissa informs Hermione that her, Andromeda, and Teddy will be gone for the rest of the week. 

She wonders for a moment what she’ll do in this Manor all alone. 

Well, will she really be alone? Narcissa didn’t say Draco would be going with them. Maybe he’d stay back. She wasn’t sure. She shook her head, trying not to think about it. 

But she has thought a lot about that moment they’d had in the library the day before last. Had it been a moment? Her body felt like it was burning from just his gaze. In school, his harsh gaze on her felt like the oddest little spark. Now, she felt like she was on fire from it. She hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it. Especially at night as she looks at her canopy and his namesake constellation stares back at her almost mocking. 

And then she thinks about him saying her name. He’s never said that before. He’s only ever called her Granger. That was his thing. He did that for everyone. _Granger. Potter. Weasley. Crabbe. Goyle._

He did that for everyone. He called her Granger just a moment before. Maybe it was a slip of the tongue. But what a sweet slip of the tongue it was. 

She lazes in bed the next morning, allowing herself to sleep in for an extra half hour. She wraps her robe around herself and draws a bath. When she emerges from her room, Draco is sitting at the dining room table set for just two. 

He’s wearing reading glasses as he reads the Daily Prophet. She bites her lip. _Draco Malfoy looks absolutely fit in a pair of reading glasses._ He takes a sip of tea and looks up at her, acknowledging her presence in the room. 

“Good morning, Granger,” so he’s back to her surname. “Had a late start?” 

“Figured I might as well take advantage of the situation.” She takes a seat and grabs the teapot, and a scone and clotted cream with some jam. She scoops it with a spoon and smears it around the baked good. She sticks the spoon in her mouth when she’s done with it, savoring the flavors. When she looks up, Draco’s staring at her and his eyes stuck on her mouth, licking away the remnants of jam and cream. 

“I thought I might look around the library today,” she says and his eyes snap up to hers. “If that’s okay.” She’s not really asking for his permission. 

“Of course, Granger, that’s why I showed it to you.” 

They finish breakfast in silence. 

**✷**

The rest of the week, she sticks to a lazy routine of breakfast with Draco and then sitting and reading in the library until it’s time for dinner. Forgetting lunch and tea all together. Sometimes Fipley brings her in a tray of tea and cakes and she thanks her sweetly. Draco never bothers her. She doesn’t know what he’s off doing all day. Every single night it’s the same noises. He stumbles and mumbles to himself until he reaches his door and then slams it shut once he’s inside. 

She’s fallen asleep on the chaise lounge by the fireplace in the library. A book is spread across her chest and her curls are splayed above her on the pillow. 

_Hermione. Hermione. Hermione._

Someone’s saying her name in her dream. It sounds so lovely. She wraps her arms tighter around herself and smiles. The fireplace warms her. 

_“Hermione.”_ She hears it again. A heat pools in her belly from how low this voice is. Her eyelashes flutter on her cheeks. She’s flushed from the hearth. 

“Granger.” That makes her eyes snap open. That voice. It’s Draco. He’s watching over her. His face above her and only one side of him is illuminated by the fire. He looks almost menacing. 

She sits up, embarrassed that he caught her like that. So vulnerable. Her throat is dry and she licks her cracked lips. He hands her a glass of water. A teacup is sitting nearby. She accepts it with a nod and her fingers brush against his as she grabs the glass. 

His eyes watch her for a moment as she drinks but then he turns to sit on the chaise across from her. The way he sits exudes power. He leans back on the lounge with his arms spread across the back. 

“I came in to see if you’d want tea.”

“What time is it?” She asks as she sits up. There are no windows in the library so there’s no concept of time. 

“Just a little after five, I believe. Tea?” 

“Please.” With the flick of his delicate hand, the teacup floats over in front of her face and the tea pours from the kettle into the cup. A few spoonfuls of honey float over and dunk themselves in the tea and stir. He knows just how she takes it. The cup stays there suspended in the air between their eyes until she grasps the handle and pulls it to her mouth to take a sip. 

“Did the reading assortment in the Malfoy library really bore you enough to fall asleep?” He says after a beat and a sip of his own tea. 

“No,” she laughs, “it was actually quite interesting. I don’t know why I fell asleep. Perhaps I was just so content.” The fire crackles. 

“What were you reading?” His eyes narrow as he tries to look at the book tucked into her lap now closed. 

Hermione places her teacup on the little table and picks the book up for him to see. 

“Ah, reading up about my family, are you?” 

“I’ll admit, I am curious about the Sacred Twenty-Eight. There wasn’t much reading on them in Hogwarts. Especially on your family.” 

“Let me save you reading time; it’s all very dry. Must be why you fell asleep.” He nods his head and tips his chin. 

“Perhaps,” she studies him and he studies her. “It’s interesting to see why they thought like that.” _Why you thought like that, she didn’t say._ And she didn’t have to say what the _that_ was. He knew what she’s talking about from the way his jaw clenched. He licks his lips and looks by her and towards the fire, turning his head. His whole face is illuminated by the flames now. His grey eyes burning a dark yellow. 

“I don’t think like that,” he said, his voice so soft, “I don’t think I ever really did.” 

“But—” 

He runs his hand through his hair, closing his eyes, and sighs out of frustration. “Hermione—I—I—I was taught to think like that. It was what I was told. And then I met you.” He turns to look at her. Her breath catches. 

Her?

He continues. “Yes, you. _The brightest witch of her age._ God—this isn’t how I wanted to talk to you.” He looks down. “Ever since that first time I saw you on the train when we were eleven, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. You frustrated me. You always did better than me. I could never catch up. I was always a step behind. And I didn’t understand any of it. I was told that I should _loathe_ you. And I couldn’t.” 

“But you—you called me—” 

“I know, I know. And I regret it every single day. Every time I called you that name I felt like I was going to puke after. Remember second year when Ron tried to hex me and it backfired and he puked up slugs? Yeah, that’s how I felt every single time.” His elbows rest on his thighs and his head drops between his knees, shoulders slumped. His hand runs up and down the back of his neck. “I never hated you, Hermione. I could never hate you. I didn’t know what to do.” 

There he goes with her name again. Hermione stands from the chaise before she really knows what she’s doing and slowly walks across the carpet to Draco. He doesn’t notice her though until she’s kneeling down on the floor, holding his hands in hers. “I never hated you, either.” She admits. 

“But—” now it’s his turn to be confused. 

All those years at school, she ignored him and the way he would bully. She understood that there was something deeper going on there. She never gave into how he’d tease and call names. She’ll admit that it did get to her once in a while when she’d have a particularly hard day. She’d cast a _Silencio_ charm around her bed at night and cry. But it wasn’t because of him calling her that name. It was about a lot of other things but that name would just send her over the edge. 

She’s also forgiven him at this point. It’s been ten years. She spoke at his trial, for Merlin’s sake. She’d gotten over it a while ago. 

“I’m so sorry, Hermione,” his hands are cupping her face now. His long fingers reach up behind her ears and she shivers. The tips of their noses are almost touching. 

“I forgave you a long time ago, Draco, but it’s still nice to hear.” She smiles. His hand caresses her face. 

They sit in the silence for a moment. The fire crackles and pops. They breathe. There’s a faint heartbeat under their jumpers beating so rapidly. 

Then he leans in. Closer. His lips. His lips brush hers. So softly. She sucks in a breath. 

And there’s a crack right in front of them. 

“Fipley would like to let you know that dinner is ready.” Then she disappears with another crack. 

Hermione laughs and Draco rolls his eyes. 

“We should probably go to dinner.” She says against his lips. He sighs and pulls her up with him. When they’re standing, with his hands back holding her face and hers placed on his shoulders, he kisses the crown of her head quickly before letting her go and walking towards the door. 

That night, Hermione lays in bed and stares up at the canopy. Her fingertips ghost over her lips, relishing the feeling of his hot breath against her and his soft lips. She almost kissed him. He almost kissed her. 

She takes a deep breath. 

She had wanted him to kiss her. She still wants him to. _You want him to do more than kiss you._ A heat travels through her belly and down her legs and she rolls over on her side and looks out the window. 

It’s a full moon tonight. The big manor echoes with those nightly noises that old houses make. 

There’s a tapping at the wall but when she turns to look, there’s nothing there. It’s just in her head. It has to be. She turns back to her side and her thoughts drift back to Draco. 

He looked so defeated in the library. So sad and angry. 

She knew he never hated her. Or rather, she had a feeling that he didn’t _really_ feel the way he’d acted when he was younger. She knew it was all a mask. 

But she doesn’t know how he feels now. She has some idea. He did almost kiss her in that moment. And he did almost do _something_ when he showed her the library. And he did kiss her forehead after Fipley interrupted them. Fleeting little moments. But that’s all they are, right? Little moments? 

Little moments she’s thought about since they were in school. She’d thought about kissing him before. Too many times. Like in third year after she’d hit him. She was so frustrated. _What if she kissed him instead then?_ Or in sixth year. She was so concerned about him. He looked so sad. She wanted to hold him and ask if he was alright. 

Hermione groaned and closed her eyes and held the blanket and covers tighter to her chest. Wishing that sleep would soon take her over and that she’d stop thinking about Draco Malfoy because he _must not_ think about her. 

What Hermione didn’t know (but felt in the deepest part of her mind that it must be true) was that a few doors down on the other end of the hall, Draco was laying in bed staring up at his own ceiling and thinking about her. 

He runs his hands over his face and the pads of his fingers along his jawline, where she touched him. 

With his eyes closed, he thinks about her. He always thinks about her. He can’t stop thinking about her. 

When he’d lie awake at night in his bed in the Slytherin dorms he’d think of her. Or look at her in potions. Or Defense Against the Dark Arts. Or astronomy. Or Care of Magical Creatures (he’d really messed it up third year when that bloody bird scratched him). Theo and Blaise would poke fun. _Malfoy has a little crush on the Mudblood._ He’d threaten to hex them for generations if they’d said anything. But it was true, _gods_ is it true. 

The feeling of the slight brush of her lips on his has sent his body reeling from just that faint glimmer of a touch. He knew that as soon as she placed her warm hands on his out of comfort that he’d submit and come apart under her fingers. He’d do anything. Fuck, he feels pathetic. She was only being nice. He apologized and she accepted. That was it. Surely, she didn’t want the bully that called her names before to kiss her. 

But she said she forgave him a long time ago. That doesn’t mean it makes up for all the years he hurt her. 

Draco rolls over on his stomach and pushes his head into his pillow and groans. 

There was a small chance that she had wanted him to kiss her. She did lean into his touch and the way his hands molded around her cheeks. She closed her eyes as his fingers brushed behind her ears. She shuddered only just a pinch when he kissed her forehead. 

And where the hell did that forehead kiss come from? 

It felt so natural. Comforting. 

Draco groaned again feeling like a right off sap. Fucking pathetic. 

_“Drake...Drake....”_ He hears his name being called like a hollow whisper against the night wind. The voice runs shivers down his spine like talons on a blackboard. 

He bites his lower lip and sighs, then gets up and walks through the hidden doorway in his room like he does every single night. 

**✷**

Draco is already sitting at the table when she walks into the dining room for breakfast the next morning. He’s poured a cup of tea for her and added three spoonfuls of honey. “Is that alright?” 

“Perfect.” She grins. It’s the perfect temperature and warms her throat. 

“Mother, Teddy, and Aunt Andromeda are coming back later this afternoon. How shall you spend your last day of freedom?” 

“I think I’d like to spend more time in the library,” she looks at him over her cup. He’s holding his own, taking a sip. Then she adds, boldly, “Would you like to join me?”

“Uh—” he’s surprised. His cup is paused at his lips. 

“I’m so silly, you probably have a million things to do, you don’t want to spend time with me in the library.” She puts her cup down and turns to look at her plate. The eggs are fluffy today. 

“Granger,” she stabs one bite of egg with her silver fork. “Hermione,” that makes her look back up at him, “I’d love to spend time with you in the library.” His voice is warm and sincere. She smiles and moves the fork to her mouth. 

He tells her he’ll meet her in the library after he takes care of a few things. She finds all the books she was reading yesterday still piled up on the table near the chaise and scattered around the floor and on the seat. Fipley has already laid out a table with tea and cookies for a snack. 

The same book from yesterday is splayed across her lap when he walks in with pieces of parchment in his hands and a book. He sits down at the chaise across from her, gives her a little smile, and then starts to read. 

They sit there in silence for a while. She barely reads. She’s read the same sentence over and over again in the book. She glances up at him every now and then. His eyes are glued to the parchment and flicker back and forth between the book and the paper. He has those reading glasses on again. She bites the corner of her lip. Her feet are itching to move. Her whole body is itching to move. _Itching to be touched._ She gets up. 

She’s roaming the aisles and she hears Draco follow behind her. His dragon leather shoes clack against the wooden floor. 

“This is my favorite section.” He says, looking up at the shelves. 

Hermione glances at the shelves in front of her and looks at the titles on the spines sticking out at her. 

_Wuthering Heights. Pride and Prejudice. The Great Gatsby. Dracula._

“You like muggle fiction?” She’s surprised. 

Draco takes a step closer to her. He grabs a copy of _The Great Gatsby_ off of the shelf. “They’re classics for a reason, Granger.” He scoffs, like her statement is absurd, but then he smiles slightly. 

“You would like that one.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It’s about a rich man who throws completely ridiculous lavish parties.”

“That’s not all it’s about, Granger,” he steps closer. “It’s also about a man who’s so desperate for the attention from the woman he loves that he throws these completely ridiculous lavish parties. He’s hopeless. He’ll do anything for her.” He steps closer and closer to her with each word. “He even dies for her.” 

He’s so close to her now. Her lips part. “She didn’t deserve him.” 

Draco laughs. “Did he deserve her?” 

She clears her throat. “I suppose I should reread it.” She reaches out to grab the book from him and her hand lands on his. He doesn’t let go of the book and she doesn’t pull it out of his hand. Instead she pulls his shirt closer to her and his lips to hers. 

It’s a wet and warm kiss. His lips are so soft and she melts into him. They drop the book between them with a thud on the floor. He grabs her waist with one hand and pushes her up against the bookcase while his other hand cradles the back of her head and neck as she lets him into her mouth. 

Suddenly all of her senses are invaded by him. All she can smell and taste is peppermint against his tongue. She feels his soft blonde hair on her fingertips as she moves them and pulls his hair. She sees a rainbow behind her eyes. A dark rainbow flutters as she keeps them closed and feels herself being ravished by him on the bookcase. 

She whimpers when he pulls away to kiss along her jaw and neck. When she opens her eyes, she’s met with his steel grey ones dark and full of complete wanton lust. 

Her legs move and his hands trace down her body, feeling the curve of her hips and the swell of her ass in her jeans. He groans. “These _jeans,_ Hermione.” He stops when he hits the back of her thighs and looks up at her almost for reassurance before he picks her up and wraps her legs around his waist and seats her on the shelf. 

It feels like her heartbeat is about to pop out of her chest. There’s a little hummingbird in there fighting to break free. She’s breathing so heavily on his neck as he kisses her. Surely he’s leaving marks. She feels his tongue swirl languorously along the slope of her skin. She gasps when he hits right behind her ear. 

With his hand on her waist, she can feel his finger grip into her hips. Maybe he’ll leave a mark there too. Her shirt starts to ride up, exposing just a little bit of the skin at her waist and she inhales when she feels his fingertips brush at her bareskin there. 

He kisses her lips once and then breaks off. She nods and his hand moves up her jumper. Slowly. A little too slowly. But she savors it. Her hands and fingers dig into his shoulders. 

She pulls him back to her and moves her tongue into his mouth, taking over. Their lips move so wonderfully together. She really thinks she could sit here and do this until she runs out of breath. Her last breath. 

_“Hermione—”_ his voice drips into her mouth sweetly. 

“Draco! Hermione!” 

They stop and pull away from each other, casting charms to fix themselves as they hear hurried footsteps. 

“Welcome back, mother.” Draco says as he steps out of the stacks and in front of the fireplace where Narcissa is. 

“Oh there you are. Fipley told me you’d both be in here. Hermione,” Narcissa looked behind Draco to Hermione, “I’m so glad Draco showed you the library. I completely forgot to. Please, take whatever you’d like to read.”

“Thank you, Narcissa.” 

“Lunch is ready in the dining room, I thought I’d come tell both of you myself.” And with a turn of her heels Narcissa walks out. 

Draco turns to Hermione with a cheeky grin on hips still pink and puffy lips. He walks towards her, arms out, ready to grab her to kiss her again. 

“Oh no, you heard your mother, lunch is ready.”

“Granger, it’s fine, we can be a few minutes late.” 

“No we can’t! Did you see that look on her face when she walked out! She practically winked when she said she wanted to come tell us herself. I feel like a bloody teenager being caught by parents again.” 

She huffs and starts to walk to the door. Draco grabs her forearm and pulls her towards him with a kiss. It’s sweet and gentle. Loving. Content. He smiles when he pulls away and then walks towards the door. Hermione is stuck in place. 

“Let’s go, Granger, didn’t you say you wanted to run to lunch because my mother said so?”

**✷**

Draco finds every excuse to snog Hermione. And she lets him. 

Before breakfast, he catches her in the hallway that leads to the dining room and pulls her up against a tapestry. Her lips are stung and swollen when she sits down and pours her morning tea. Cheeks pink and flustered. 

After lessons with Teddy, he ventures into the study and snogs her against the desk. His hands resting on her hips and hers holding tightly, white-knuckled onto the desk for support before she gives in and rests them on his shoulders or in his hair. 

At night after dinner, she takes one last cup of tea in the library and she leads him into the stacks where he grabs her wrist and pulls her, pressing their bodies together up against the bookshelves. His thigh comes to rest in between hers and her feet nearly float off of the ground. He holds her in his arms like she’s a light feather and he snogs her viciously—like it can’t possibly be real. 

But that’s all it ever is. Vicious and voracious snogging up against walls or desks or bookshelves. Draco’s fingertips ghost just under the hem of her jumper but he never pushes. Her hands venture to his belt but she doesn’t go any further. Both of them are waiting for the other to make the next move even though they’re both so content with where they are now, simply enjoying each other's warmth and touch. 

Every night, Hermione hears a tapping against the walls and a slight high pitched cry. She attributes it to the age of the manor. Odds things might have happened here and they’re still trapped within the walls. She tries to ignore it. She thinks about Draco and his lips and the way he kisses her. It warms her body enough that she doesn’t need to wrap the blankets as tightly around herself anymore. 

But then she thinks about how his room is right there at the other end of the hall. She’d heard him come in moments ago. He didn’t sound under the influence of something tonight. But rather he talked to himself. Muttering and mumbling. Always the same things. 

_“Astoria…”_

_“...pathetic…”_

_“...love…”_

_“...She’ll leave...she will...when she finds out…”_

_“Too good to be true.”_

That last part was new. 

She sighs in bed and looks out the window. It’s a full moon tonight and the light is illuminating her room. 

Draco had gone to bed a while ago but for some reason she can’t sleep tonight. Then she hears him. 

A blood curdling scream. _“NO! Leave her alone! NO!”_

She grabs her wand and jumps to her feet, running out the door. 

Next thing she knows it, she’s banging her fist against Draco’s door. She can hear him thrashing around in his sheets. 

“ _Alohomora!”_

When the door opens, Draco’s sheets are off and scrunched under his feet at the end of his bed. He’s in just his sleep pants and his whole body is tense as he lashes out in his sleep. The muscles in his arms and veins pop out and are blue against his pale skin. Hermione runs to his side. 

“Draco, Draco, please,” she sits on the bed next to him. Her hands cradle his face. She uses all of her strength to hold him and soothe him. 

“ _Don’t hurt her! Hermione!”_ Her name uttered in his nightmare makes her brows furrow with concern. What could he possibly be having a nightmare about? 

“Draco, please, I’m okay, I’m here, it’s Hermione.” 

His eyes open and the grey in them is so dark but they’re pleading and desperate. He grabs Hermione, nearly crushing her to his chest. She wraps her arms around him as he mutters her name into her neck. 

When he pulls back to look at her, she brushes her hand over his jaw and plays with a strand of hair that’s fallen in front of his eyes. His breathing starts to calm. 

“If you’d like to talk...I’m here to listen, Draco. I’m here and I’m okay.” He kisses her forehead and she closes her eyes, resting her head on his chest as he does. 

“You’re okay, you’re okay.” His voice is still shaking slightly and his chest feels clammy but Hermione holds him close with her body on top of him. “Will you stay with me? Please?”

He’s pleading. 

She doesn’t respond verbally, but rather she moves off of his chest—and he’s saddened for a moment, thinking she’s leaving him—to grab the blankets at the end of his bed. She pulls them back over the both of them as she settles on his side with her arm and leg draped over him, nestling underneath his chin. 

He plays with her hair as she rests. His fingers find the scar on her left forearm and breathes in as he traces over the letters one by one. “Why did I let her hurt you?” His voice cracks as he speaks.

“I’m okay, Draco. I’m here.”

That must’ve been what he dreamed about. That night in the Manor when she’d been tortured by his aunt. He sat nearby, listening to the whole thing. 

She wasn’t mad at him for not doing anything. He couldn’t have done anything, Bellatrix would’ve cursed him on the spot for helping Hermione. 

Instead she kisses his chest. Little and light kisses for reassurance. Reassurance that she’s there with him and that she’s not going anywhere. 

When she falls asleep, she swears she hears a voice off somewhere in the distance calling _Drake, Drake, Drake,_ but she attributes it to a dream. An odd one. 

**✷**

She wakes before him the next morning. And she leaves too before he wakes. She feels bad for leaving him. She looks out the windows in the hallway as she walks back to her room. The evergreens are bright against the grey morning sky. They never change. They never diminish. They stand tall and flourish no matter the season. 

She needs to take a bath. She wants to take a bath. She wants to plunge her head under the water. It’s a Saturday so she doesn’t need to worry about Teddy’s lessons. She really has all the time she needs. She could spend the whole morning here in the bubbles. 

When she reaches her room, she heads straight for the bathroom and with a flick of her wand, the faucet runs and bubbles fill the clawfoot tub. She strips out of her nightgown and drops it unceremoniously onto the tile floor. 

After she’s done washing, there’s a knocking on her door. She thinks for a moment it’s Fipley so she tells them to enter.

Draco enters the bathroom still clad in just his pajama bottoms. They sit so low on his hips. Hermione can see the lines leading down into them and the cuts from his abs. His _Sectumsempra_ scars are more prominent in the morning light. 

“Sorry—I didn’t—I’m an idiot, of course you’re in the bath. I’ll—” and he starts to walk out the door again. 

But Hermione stops him. “Wait.” She calls as she leans on the edge of the tub with her chin resting on her flat hands. She feels like they’ve reached a new moment in their relationship or whatever it is between them last night when they’d held each other close in that vulnerable moment. 

They’ve both been teetering on the edge of pushing things further. Both being so content with just snogging deeply. 

She’ll admit she wants more. She wants him. She wants him now. It just feels right. Her magic is buzzing. 

“Shut the door.” He closes it and he stays put there by the door. “Will you hand me the towel?” She asks him and eyes the towel next to him hanging on the back of the door. 

He grabs it and hands it to her. He turns away when she steps out of the bath, giving her some privacy. She smiles and appreciates it. 

She walks up to him when she’s wrapped up in the towel. 

“I want you to touch me, Draco. Do you want to—”

“Please.” His voice is desperate. He didn’t even let her finish. “Sit on the edge of the tub.” 

She backs up until the edge of the tub hits the back of her thighs and she lowers herself down until she’s seated. 

Hermione looks up at him with her brown eyes wide like a doe. 

Draco falls to his knees on the tile and his hands brush up her thighs. 

Her whole body can feel every little sensation. Goosebumps rise to the surface and her heart is beating too fast in anticipation of what he’s going to do. She’s so sensitive under his touch. Just the touch of his fingers moving up her legs is making her squirm. 

“You want me to touch you?” 

She nods. 

“Say it, please.” 

“I want you to touch me,” a beat, “I _need_ you to touch me.” 

He leans forward and kisses her knee. She sucks in a breath. He moves up her thigh, sucking little kisses into her flesh. He holds her leg in his hand, guiding it over his shoulder. 

Draco looks up at her when he reaches her center where she’s covered by the towel. One leg is draped over his shoulder and her hands are gripping the edge of the bath. 

“Drop the towel, Hermione.” She doesn’t think and undoes the little tuck at the top of her breasts. The towel falls and she feels the need to cover herself before she looks him in the eyes. When she does look at him, she can feel the lust burning through him. His eyes are dark and needy. His cheeks are pink with a heated flush. And he’s looking at her like she’s the perfect bite of dessert that he needs to savor with every bite. 

“ _Merlin, help me,”_ he manages to say softly. He starts to kiss her thighs again with his hands tight on her hips. 

He doesn’t stop this time when he reaches her core, instead he takes a long and experimental lick trying to gauge her reaction. She throws her head back and gasps with the contact. She’s been aching since he stepped into the bathroom. Honestly, she’s been aching since she woke up this morning after sleeping wrapped around him like that and feeling the warmth of his body clutching hers. 

His tongue laps and his mouth sucks so dirtily she forgets she was in the bath to get clean. Her fingers grab at the bathtub so hard she may cause the porcelain to chip but his hands anchor her hips down. She’s safe, she’s not going anywhere. 

“ _Gods, yes,”_ she breathes and she can feel Draco smirk against her. She looks down to see him looking back up at her with wild abandon across his face. She watches his tongue work lavishly to eat her up. 

One of his hands moves so that he’s holding her from the small of her back and the other moves up her body and holds her breast and the feeling as he palms her and licks is too much at once and she’s arching her back under his touch. 

Then she feels his nose hit that gentle bundle of nerves and she moans. She must look like a mess right now. Her skin must be flushed and red and the sounds that are coming out of her mouth are so obscene and intimate. She’s about to lose it. She can feel it coming and building. 

“Draco, I’m going to—” He acknowledges her by licking more ferociously like a man starved. 

“Be a good girl, Hermione, come for me, I want you to come on my tongue.”

The way he tells her to be a good girl makes her cry out. And with a few more licks, and a thumb preciously rubbing her languorously and deliciously, she comes moaning his name. 

“ _Draco, Draco, Draco.”_ She’s babbling with her eyes closed. 

His hands hold her steady as she comes and keeps telling how much of a good girl she is. Her body is humming magically. 

When she opens her eyes, he’s still licking her slowly and his thumbs are rubbing little circles in her thighs and hips. His silver eyes look so thrilled. 

She pulls him up to her when he takes one last lick and she places her lips on his. She can taste herself on him. Sweet and salty and everything at once. His tongue delves into her mouth, completely devouring her. 

Hermione’s hands venture towards the waistband of his sleep pants and she starts to pull them but then stops for a moment. 

“We have breakfast,” she pulls away and says against his lips. 

“I think I just had mine.” He kisses her again and her hand moves to the front of his pants and palms him. He hisses in her ear. “We have breakfast, Hermione. You don’t—you don’t have to.”

“Maybe I want my breakfast now.” And she sinks to her knees now in front of him, pulling his pants down with her. 

She licks her lips when she sees how hard he is in front of her. All of this because of her. All of it for her. 

She takes him in her hand, stroking slowly a few times, and she looks up at him and his head is already thrown back so that she can’t see his face. She keeps her eyes on him, looking up, as she licks up his length and the tip before taking him fully in her mouth. 

He groans deep when she takes him and his hands find themselves knotted into her hair. He pulls at her curls as she sucks and coats him in her spit. 

Her tongue swirls the tip when she moves him out of her mouth. 

_“Fuck, Hermione,”_ he whines and her name sounds so sinful on his lips like that. She hums against him. She’s so lost in making him fall apart in her mouth that she doesn’t notice when he pulls her off of him and brings her up so that her lips are on his. “I want to snog you when I come. Please.” 

She’s already starting to ache again. A warmth is spreading to her center. She preens as she moves her hand down to hold him and stoke him as she brings him to the edge. 

She strokes him with such a leisure that he’s melting under her touch. Their kisses aren’t rushed or hurried. They’re deep and consuming. He growls into her mouth and she picks up the pace, her hand moving faster. She feels him suck in a breath and choke out her name in a husky tone and he’s coming, splashing hot onto their chests. 

They’re both panting as he comes down. He kisses her gently, with just their wet and plump lips, and he holds her body close to his. 

“We should probably get to breakfast.” He whispers. 

She laughs and hits his shoulder. “You prat. I thought we both ate?” She asks innocently. 

“Oh Granger, you’re going to be the death of me.” His hands rub up and down her waist. 

“It’s Granger now? What happened to _Hermione?”_ She mimics his guttural moan and he smacks her arse. “Hey!”

“Hermione,” he says in her ear and she shivers, “if we don’t go down to breakfast now then I’m afraid I won’t be letting you leave your room.” It’s a threat. His eyes are narrowed and playful. 

She bends down to pick up the towel and walks to the bathroom door before turning around to look at him. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” And she walks out of the bathroom to go get dressed for the day, leaving him naked in there with his mouth open. 

**✷**

They send each other suggestive looks over the breakfast table almost forgetting that they’re not alone. Draco licks his spoon with a little too much passion and Hermione chokes on her tea. Hermione keeps a sausage in her mouth and bites down while looking at him and she sees him gulp. 

“I think I’m going to take a walk around the gardens today,” Hermione announces when she puts her fork and knife down on her plate. “I haven’t explored them properly yet.” 

“You’ll particularly like the south part of the garden, I think,” Narcissa says, “I just planted a spectacular flower garden there this spring. It’s blooming so wonderfully.” Her smile hits the corner of her eyes as she looks over her tea cup. 

“I’ll have to look, thank you, Narcissa.” 

“Teddy, what do you say we fly around the pitch today. Maybe you can make seeker for Slytherin.” Draco cuts in. 

“Draco,” Teddy elongates the last syllable, “that’s even _if_ I get sorted into Slytherin. I could get sorted into Gryffindor like Harry or Hermione.”

Hermione turns to look at Draco with a smirk and an eyebrow raised. Draco just sneers and she laughs. 

“Well, we’ll deal with that when it comes to it. As long as you don’t get sorted into Hufflepuff.” 

**✷**

Hermione lays out in the garden on the lush green grass. The sun is beating down on her face and she had to take off her cardigan because she was too warm. Now her shoulders are exposed and she’ll probably get a few new freckles. 

There aren’t many clouds out today. There’s one that floats by that looks like a cauldron. A long one that looks like a snake. Another that looks like a chocolate frog. The sky is unusually blue. But she really can’t complain since it’s been so dreadfully dreary the past few months. 

She closes her eyes and lets the feeling of the heat and the slight breeze and the grass underneath her fully envelope her body. She lets out a breath. 

Then there’s a shade over her eyes. The back of her eyelids are no longer stinging orange and brunt red. A cloud must’ve floated in front of the sun. 

But then she feels plush lips on hers. The kiss is quick and tender. Her eyes flutter open to Draco laying beside her in the grass with one hand in her hair, brushing it away. 

“Hi.”

“Hi.” 

She turns to look at him and they lay there in the grass staring at each other as if it were a bed and they’d just woken up from a beautiful dream. 

His hair is slicked back from sweat and his Quidditch kit is dirty. 

She cuddles into his chest. “You stink,” and she scrunches up her nose, looking up at him. 

He only pulls her into him, holding her tighter. “No, no, I merely smell _musky,_ like a man. Admit it, Granger, _you love it.”_

He kisses her. 

“I think you need a shower.” 

“Are you thinking about me in the shower now?” His eyebrow quirks. 

“Well, it’s only fair,” she whispers, “you did get to see me in the bath.” 

He pinches her arse and she swats him and stands. “I’ll race you back to the Manor, you stinky prat.” And she takes off.

She can’t hear him behind her. She turns to look but he’s not there. Then she feels a pair of arms grab her around the middle and bring her to the ground. She lands on top of him and they roll in the grass, kissing lushly. 

Hermione pulls away. “You really do need a shower.” 

“Only if you come with me,” he says with another kiss. 

**✷**

For the rest of her life, Hermione will have a Pavlovian response when it comes to bathrooms. As soon as she steps into the black marble bathroom with Draco that’s attached to his bedroom, there’s an ache in her belly when she remembers what they did just this morning. 

Draco starts the shower and it pours down like a rainstorm against the marble and the open glass doors. He starts to undress her. He pulls the zipper at the back of her dress down and then the straps fall off her shoulders. He leaves a little kiss there when the straps drop and she sucks in a breath. 

When the dress pools around her ankles, Draco groans. 

“You mean to tell me that you’ve only been wearing only a pair of green lace knickers under this dress the whole day?” 

She nods. “Don’t think it was for you.”

“Oh no? Green suddenly your color?” 

“I’ve always had a fondness for it.”

She gasps as he starts to pull them down her legs. He kisses her as he does it. First at her thigh and then down her thigh. She’s trembling. 

“I think I’ve grown even fonder of it.” He says when he’s gotten them completely off her. 

He kisses her lips when he stands. He’s still dressed in his dirty kit. “This isn’t fair.” She pouts. 

He puts his hands up in surrender and lets her undress him. She takes her time. Slowly stripping him of his gear and robe and shirt and pants until it’s a puddle between them on the tile floor. He’s already hard and her mouth waters. She thinks about taking him in her mouth again for a second. She’d really like it. But she also really wants to step under the hot water with him. Many things could happen in there. 

There’s steam filling the bathroom now and fully wrapping around both of them. 

He backs her into the walk-in shower with a kiss and arms held around her waist. The water pouring over them feels like a waterfall. She needs to keep her eyes closed or blink rapidly to keep the water out of her eyes. Draco grabs the soap and a loofa and starts to massage it into Hermione’s skin. 

“You know,” she starts as he turns her around to wash her back, “I did wash this morning. I’m not very dirty.” 

She feels his lips on her neck and she lolls her head to the side to allow him more access. 

“I assure you, Hermione, you’re very dirty. I need to clean you up.” 

He presses her back to his front and she can feel his arousal press into her. 

The suds and bubbles trickle down her body and flow down the drain. She watches them catch on her feet. 

There’s the absence of his hands on her body as he puts the loofa down and moves a hand down her front to cup her core. 

“You’re so wet for me,” he says into her neck. 

“We _are_ in the shower.” 

“What am I going to do with that smart mouth.” 

“I could probably think of a few things.” 

His hand moves slowly around her, feeling her melt in his arms from just his touch. When he pushes a finger in, her moan is muffled by the sound of the water cascading. Then he adds another and she’s pushing back into him but he holds her steady. 

“ _Draco, please, please.”_ She pants. 

There’s just too many sensations at once. The heat of the water on her skin. The smell of Draco’s body wash surrounding her. The feel of Draco pressed up against her and his hardness teasing her. The sound of him groaning into her ear from behind and the wet kisses he leaves on her neck and shoulders. 

She comes too quickly. She’s always loved coming in the shower. Somehow it’s always more intense. All of the hardest orgasms she’s given herself have been in the shower. 

Now with Draco it’s different. In the best way. She loves it even more now and she doesn’t know how she’s going to be able to go back to coming on her own under the spray of the water. 

When she opens her eyes again, she turns around to face Draco and she pushes him against the marble wall. 

Her mouth crashes onto his and now that they’re out of the direct flow of the water it’s easier to snog him. 

“Now,” she says as she pulls away and grabs the loofa again, “I think it’s mine turn to get you clean. You are, after all, the one who was all dirty.” She smiles and starts with the large expanse of his chest. She spreads the soap over him and over the scars that litter his body. She pauses when she gets to the _Sectumsempre_ scars that cut across in harsh gashes. “I told Harry all sixth year that there was something wrong, that you weren’t yourself. He didn’t believe me in the way I wanted him to.” Her voice is hushed. He almost doesn’t hear her. 

“Hermione, I—”

“I should’ve—I should’ve asked you and helped you myself.” She stops washing him and pauses with her hands held on his chest. 

“I probably wouldn’t have let you help me anyway.” He lifts her chin and kisses sweetly. She tries a smile and finishes washing him. When the water grows cold, he wraps her in a towel and them himself and leads her to his bed where they lay down. She instinctively lays on top of him. Her chest to his. Only their towels in between them. 

She likes to listen to the steady rise and fall of his breathing under her ear. It grounds her. But it also makes everything so real. She really is laying here with Draco Malfoy. She just showered with Draco Malfoy. She hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Draco Malfoy. 

Draco’s breathing evens out below her and soon she falls asleep with him

**✷**

She must’ve rolled over in her sleep because she’s on her side and Draco is pressed up against her back. Their towels have fallen and his arm is draped across her naked waist and the other holds her breasts. 

He’s hard again behind her. 

Hermione starts to draw slow circles on the top of his hand where it lays above her belly button. He stirs behind her and pushes his face into her curls more. He grumbles. 

Draco hums into her hair and she can feel his breath on her neck. It makes her quiver. 

“If you don’t stop moving, I’m going to want to fuck you.” His voice sounds like gravel. It’s deep and scratchy and it makes her turn to liquid. 

“Okay,” her response is faint but of course he hears it because all in a moment, he turns her around and she’s faced with his stormy grey eyes full of desire. 

He falls to his back and she crawls on top of him so that her creamy thighs are spread across his waist. They’re already undressed. There’s nothing in between them now. His cock is hard beneath her and she rubs herself onto him. Her hips shift and move as she rocks above him. His head hits her clit and she moans. 

He doesn’t know what to do beneath her. Watching her stroke herself on his cock like this has rendered him completely incoherent of any thought. 

“Are you sure?” He finds his words.

“Please.” 

His hands grab onto her hips and he lifts her so that she’s angled above him, ready to push him inside of her. 

Her lips are parted as she nods, “Draco, I _need you.”_

And then she lowers herself onto him and they both gasp as she feels him inside of her and he feels her tightness around him. 

She bounces a few times and he lays back in awe of Hermione Granger straddled on top of him and fucking him. Then he sits up and grabs her, pulling her body flush with his, as she rides his lap. He can snog her like this. He can feel her breathy moans on his lips. He can feel her nails dig little crescent moons onto the skin of his shoulders. And letting her ride him at this angle; it hits so differently. She whimpers when he moves, hitting a new spot inside of her. It just feels too good. 

They both feel so needy as they grab for each other, looking for purchase on each other’s skin. He bows his head down to kiss at her breasts. He leaves dark red blotches that she’ll admire later and get wet just thinking about. She loves him marking her. She loves knowing that he did that. 

They’re like putty in each other’s arms. Both give in to the other’s needs. She rolls her hips in the way she’s discovered he likes and he reaches a hand down in between them to brush her clit. She nearly shrieks when he does. 

“ _God,”_ she murmurs into his neck as she holds him. 

“It’s _Draco,_ darling,” 

“You’re such a prat.” She laughs in between groans. 

“I want to hear you say it. Who’s fucking you, Hermione?” 

She mumbles. 

“Say it.” 

“ _Draco, ohhh god!”_ His name is an incantation. 

Their names together are a spell. 

He can feel her get closer by the way her walls grip him. He’s about to fall himself. But he wants her to fall first. 

She writhes on top of him while he rubs and sucks and does everything to her body that’s going to send her over. And he can feel her clench as she does what she knows will send him over. 

_“Please, please, yes, yes.”_

“I’m—” They say at the same time. 

And then she comes on top of him and her moan reaches a high shrill that makes him whimper under her touch and soon enough he’s coming with her and she’s absolutely milking him. 

She collapses on his chest, curling herself in on his lap, and he holds her still to him. His hand soothes her hair and the only sound filling the room is their heavy debauched tones and hot breath. 

After a moment she looks up at him. His eyes are almost glassy. His kiss to her is light and when they pull back, he rests his forehead on hers and the tips of their noses touch. The honey sweet moment is the complete opposite of the fucking they had just been doing but it feels so right for them. There are unspoken words. 

**✷**

Hermione spends every night in Draco’s room. Somehow it’s warmer than hers. She doesn’t need the blankets wrapped around her to keep out the biting cold. Instead, she has Draco’s arms and his body caging her in and wrapping himself around her; his skin hot on hers. 

She doesn’t hear the soft tapping in his room. There’s just an almost silent hum in the deep hours of the night that Hermione barely hears and thinks that it’s all in her head. 

And there’s a ragged voice calling his name. She hears that every night. But it has to be all in a dream. She must be calling him out in her sleep...

When they’re around his family, they keep their hands to themselves. The glances, however, are full of a sticky sweetness that neither of them can leave behind closed doors. They try but they really just can’t stop looking at each other like the last dessert. 

Narcissa must suspect something though from the way she glances at them over her spoon as she slurps her soup at dinner or her sips of tea in the morning. 

Teddy, Hermione thinks, notices something too because he asks her about it one day after his lessons. 

“Hermione, can I ask you something?” 

“Of course, Teddy, what is it?” Her brows furrow in concern, thinking it’s possibly something to do with his lesson from today. 

“Are you and Draco friends?” His head tilts as he asks it. 

“Uhh,” Hermione falters for a second. But then she thinks about what her and Draco are. They haven’t really talked about it themselves. Are they friends? Are they dating? Are they just friends with benefits? But then she thinks about the way he nuzzles into her neck just before he falls asleep at night with his arm wrapped around her. Friends don’t do that. Friends don’t look at each other the way they do. “Yes, we are, why?” 

“I just think it would be good for you and Draco to have a friend. It seems like you make each other smile. I haven’t seen Draco smile my _whole_ life I think and I’m going to be eleven in a month.” He says as a matter of fact. 

“Ah yes, your birthday, remind me what kind of cake you want again?” 

“I want the _biggest_ cauldron cake you’ve ever seen! Can you make that, Hermione?” 

She laughs. “I’ll see what I can do.” 

As Teddy runs out of the study, Draco is walking in. Teddy stops on his way out and stands in front of Draco. “I’m really glad you and Hermione are friends, Draco.” He says to him and then he runs out into the hallway. 

Draco looks up at Hermione with a look of a bit of confusion but she just shrugs. “He says he has never seen you smile in his _whole_ life. And you know, eleven is _very old.”_

He walks up to Hermione and stands in front of her at the desk, cupping his hands around her face. “Eleven is incredibly old. But it’s also when I remember meeting a particular witch on the train. Maybe Teddy will meet one too.” Draco doesn’t give her a moment to respond but he kisses her instead. 

**✷**

They take a walk in the garden that evening after dinner and that walk mostly consists of Draco pulling Hermione behind bushes and snogging her absolutely senseless. So senseless that she forgets about everything else around her for a moment. Fireflies dance around them in the darkest corners of the garden and illuminate the golden honey stain of Hermione’s eyes and hair. One lands on Draco’s nose and she can’t stop the laughter that comes out of her when she sees the panic on his face. 

When it’s too dark outside and the faint chill to the air is a little too much, they dance back to Draco’s rooms where they take a bath together in his giant bathtub that’s bigger than the one in Hermione’s room and possibly the biggest bathtub she’s ever seen. 

Hermione lays in between Draco’s legs with her back to his chest. Their hands are above the water and intertwined, playing with each other. They’ve already cast a rewarming charm once on the water and their fingertips are starting to prune but neither makes any indication that they’ll be moving any time soon. 

There are thoughts that keep falling to the front of Hermione’s mind but she’s too scared to ask them. They’re bubbling in her throat. And soon she’s going to burst. 

With their hands intertwined, Draco wraps them around Hermione and leans in to kiss her neck and shoulders. “Want to do this...forever,” he mutters against her skin. 

Her lips part. 

_Forever._

He...he probably only just meant that in the moment. He probably doesn’t actually mean forever, right?

“Stop that.” He says and rests his head on her shoulder. 

“Stop what.” 

“You’re overthinking.”

“No I’m not, you can’t tell when I am.” She turns to face him.

“Hermione, I’ve known you since we were eleven, you were my biggest rival at school, I had most of my classes with you, I think I know when you’re overthinking.” He brushes a damp curl behind her ear. “What’s wrong, darling?” 

She loves when he says that, almost as much as she loves when he calls her Hermione. 

She turns fully in the bath so that their legs are tangled and she places her hands on his chest but doesn’t look at his eyes when she speaks. 

“What—what are we doing?”

Draco pulls her head up. Hermione doesn’t breathe. 

“I think I’m falling for you, Hermione Granger.” His eyes are filled with so much truthfulness and Hermione feels her cheeks heat. “No,” he stops himself, “I don’t think, I _know_ I am.” 

She doesn’t know what to say. For some reason, all words have alluded to her. 

Draco begins to second guess himself. “I—I’m sorry that was probably too soon. You think I’m a right old prat don’t you.” 

She giggles and moves herself closer to him, straddling his lap. “Now who’s overthinking.” 

He looks up. “I’m serious, Hermione. I’m falling so hard for you and I don’t want this to end.” 

“I’m falling hard for you too, Draco,” she whispers and she shuts him up with her lips on his. 

Within seconds, he’s hard under her and she’s squirming on top of him as she lines his length up with her entrance and seats herself on him. They hold each other as he thrusts and she bounces, the water sloshes over the edge of the tub. They both come in breathy pants and moans. 

And later, when they’re laying in his bed, Hermione knows that this won’t end. 

**✷**

A creak in the floorboards wakes Hermione in the early hours of the morning. Her eyes flutter open and there’s a dark figure at the side of the bed. A night demon, a night terror. It all must be part of her nightmare. She’s had them often since the war. But she hasn’t had one in a while. Neither has Draco. 

But the figure doesn’t move when she blinks. It usually does. She starts to panic. 

There’s someone in Draco’s room. 

She pushes back into Draco and a scream gets stuck in her throat. 

“Hermione,” the figure says. The voice sounds so familiar. Ragged. “Hermione,” it says again. 

It’s the same one she’s been hearing every night. 

She’s breathing heavily now. Hard enough that her chest is moving up and down rapidly, her lungs expanding far that they may break her rib cage. 

Where’s her wand. She needs her wand. She feels around on the sheets as she scrambles for it and still pushes back into Draco, somehow trying to wake him.

Suddenly Draco is turning her over in the bed, to get in front of her, and he’s kneeling on the mattress in front of the figure. 

“Drake,” she hears the figure say, “Drake,” it’s whining. 

Is it crying? 

Hermione backs herself up on the bed and watches whatever this is unfold in front of her. Draco moves forward and soothes the figure with his hands moving down its arms. 

She finds her wand and utters a low _Lumos_ , pointing her wand towards the figure. 

She gasps audibly and Draco and the figure turn. 

Astoria Greengrass. 

Her hair is dull in her wand light but her white nightgown looks crisp and fresh. There are purple veins and half circles under her deep set eyes. The pink of her lips and cheeks has faded. 

“What the fuck is going on.” It’s not a question. 

Hermione is moving off of the bed as fast as she can while keeping her wand drawn. 

Astoria smiles at her and calls her name again. But it’s not menacing. Just uncomfortable. 

Where did she come from? How is she in Draco’s room? Why was she watching them sleep?

“Hermione, I can explain.” Draco’s voice cracks as he follows her off of the bed. Astoria stays behind him, peering over his shoulder. 

“How—how can you possibly explain this?” 

“I can. Please, just give me a minute.”

Hermione shakes her head. She’s scared. She’s confused. 

“Please, I just need to bring Astoria back to her room.” His voice sounds terrible. 

She can’t be in this room anymore. 

“I need to go. I can’t—I need to go.” She runs to the door and Draco is behind her. 

“Hermione, wait!” 

She breaks out into a sprint when the door opens and she enters the hall. And she keeps running. She waves her wand and says an Intangibility charm to the doors she passes until she’s outside in the gardens. 

The grass beneath her bare feet is covered in dew and the early morning blue dawn is cresting over the horizon. 

Hermione runs down the aisles of evergreen trees and then stops abruptly and collapses onto her knees, clutching them close to her body, and trying to catch her breath. 

Her face is wet. She didn’t realize that she’s been crying since she ran out of Draco’s room. Salty tears fall into her mouth as she sobs and only makes her throat and tongue even more dry. 

This is somehow worse than her nightmares. It’s not that she’s scared of Astoria just how it happened. 

Goosebumps cover her skin and she realizes now that she’s only wearing one of Draco’s Oxford shirts. It looks white under the light of the moon and there’s splotches of wet stains on the sleeve where her eyes were. The smell of him on it makes her more anxious and her breathing more uneven. 

She bites her lip until she can taste a drop of blood on her tongue. 

She ignores the sound of Draco calling her name in the distance. He’s looking for her but she’s not going to get up to tell him where she is. She closes her eyes and listens to the sound of the birds chirping. The sounds of the breeze through the tall evergreens around her. Trying to calm herself down. 

Draco’s voice is getting closer and then he’s crouching down next to her, pulling her up, and carrying her bridal style back into the Manor. 

His cheeks are wet just like hers. Had he been crying? She rests her head on his chest. She doesn’t feel like fighting back even though she could walk back in by herself. 

But he doesn’t take her into the Manor. Instead she feels a heat on her limbs. A muggy heat. 

He sits down on a bench in the conservatory and places her on his lap, cradled like a baby. 

“Why is she here Draco?” Hermione’s hand holds Draco’s cheek and he leans into it with his eyes closed. He turns and kisses her palm before he speaks. 

“We were supposed to be married,” his voice is hesitant. “Our parents arranged for us to be married and then when it came close to it, we discovered that she’s cursed. She has this blood curse that makes her become weaker and more frail over time.” 

“Oh my god,” Hermione gulps. “The poor girl.” 

“It’s awful. She stays here and she has her own wing because her family didn’t want to acknowledge her anymore.” 

Hermione just places a hand over her mouth in shock. And then she thinks. 

“Are you married?” She’s scared to hear the answer. If he is, then she’s been cheating on a poor woman with her husband and Hermione feels her skin crawl just thinking about doing something so terrible.

“We never married,” he says and she breathes a sigh of relief. “It was never going to be a loving marriage. I never loved her. Not in the way I’m supposed to. She stays here because I care. Because there was no one else who did.” 

“Draco—”

“Your rooms were warded so that she couldn’t enter. And she stays in hers that are warded so you can’t get in and you don’t see her throughout the day. She likes to wander at night. There are secret tunnels under the house probably as old as my blood line. There’s a secret door in my room that’s how she got in.” 

“I don’t know what to say.” She looks down at his chest. Her fingers ghost over his cotton t-shirt he must’ve thrown on before he ran outside to look for her. 

“I’m sorry, I should’ve told you.” 

“I understand why you didn’t.” She looks up at him, “how does one bring this up? There was no easy way to say it.”

“I still should’ve told you. You were scared. You ran.” She can hear the fear in his voice on that last word. 

“I ran because I was shocked. I thought I was having a nightmare and then suddenly it was real.” 

“You have nightmares too?” 

“Especially about that night.” He knows which night she’s talking about. When she bled on his Manor floor and he had to sit there and watch her cry. She knows he has nightmares about it too. What a pair they are. Still broken ten years later. 

He presses his forehead to hers. “I’m so sorry,” he makes out between sobbing breaths. There’s moisture on his lips that Hermione sees when she opens her eyes and looks at his face. She kisses him carefully. Drawing out the hurt and the pain from both of them. 

“No more secrets.” She says.

“No more secrets.” He agrees. 

**✷**

Hermione follows Teddy through Diagon Alley, watching as he runs through the crows, looking through the different shop windows. She volunteered to take him to buy his school supplies today. The rush it gives her is indescribable. The feel of new parchment. The smell of new books. 

She can’t wait for Teddy to get his first wand today. She’s been thinking about it for weeks wondering what the core would be or the wood. 

Teddy reminds her a bit of herself. Eager and too smart for his own good. Excited for what’s to come. 

For the past few weeks leading up to his arrival at Hogwarts, all he’s done is ask questions and ask Hermione and Draco and Harry to tell him stories about their time at Hogwarts. All three of them rolled their eyes and gave each other looks. It’s not like they had a normal seven years of school. At least Teddy wouldn’t have to deal with a war. He’d have a normal time and Hermione is a bit jealous. 

Draco comes up to her side and grabs her hand, lacing their fingers together as they walk. He pulls her hand up and kisses her knuckles. His lips linger longer on her hand and she looks at him. The silver in his eyes sparkles. 

“C’mon, I need to let my wand pick me!” Teddy yells from ahead of them. 

“What do you think will pick him?” Hermione asks, leaning closer to Draco.

“I think unicorn hair, just like mine.” He smirks. 

“And just like his father.” She pauses. “Or maybe he’ll have a dragon heartstring like mine?” 

“As long as it’s not a phoenix feather core like Potter. I don’t think we can handle another Chosen One.” Hermione just laughs and pulls him forward towards Ollivander’s. 

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [ twitter](https://twitter.com/darthpeachy) :)


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